


Thank you to whomever had invented sleep

by Cidor



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 07:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6461107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cidor/pseuds/Cidor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time stopped, and only the snow, unbidden, slow, fell and fell, fell and fell, fell and….</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank you to whomever had invented sleep

Blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep – thank you to the universe for the existence of winter. The night fell softly, diffusing like an inkblot over the bright blue of the frosty sky. The strong cool air tried to playfully take a nip of the incautious passerby and they, on their part, bundled up even tighter in their endless layers of warm clothing. 

Blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep – thank you to the universe for the existence of the winter night. The night is long, the night is tender, the night is bright. The snow, clean and dry, reflects the moon and the stars and the occasional ray of light from the street lamp, and shines, becoming bluer. The thin firm upper layer of the snow easily breaks under the heel of the heavy military boot, and the foot sinks into the drowsy earth’s porous blanket. When you look at it, it seems warm. You sink your hand into it and the crumbling snow burns your fingers. You wash your face with it, collecting it with your hands, your cheeks grow red, they become flushed swiftly, and breathing becomes easier, and your soul is happy. The winter night is not dark; it is not hostile. 

Blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep – thank you to the universe that we are capable of dreaming. It is calm within the Walls in the winter. The gates do not open, loaded carts and frowning riders do not leave. Expenses are cut almost by half, and the amount of paperwork left for later becomes smaller and smaller until it disappears completely. Time goes by slower in the winter. In the winter it seems as though it is possible to live in a different way; one sees a beautiful dream: a life of peace. Snow fell. Fluffy stars fell from the sky lazily, turning, whispering among themselves. The sleepy city seemed warm and cozy through the big window of the daunting attic. The roofs were gently topped with white, and the smoke emanating from the chimneys reached out its thin paws towards the thick black sky. The attic slept, as was customary for the elderly to sleep during winter evenings. Many years had gone by, many winters had passed. The corners were covered with the mold of cobwebs, the shelves had become skewered, the covers on the furniture had thinned. The books, the books that were priceless and rare within the Walls, had lost weight in their battle against rats. The darkness of the lonely room was disturbed by an uneven spot of light – a gas lamp. The dry floorboards groaned, cursing, dust rose. A long time a go, a little boy had lived in this attic. His bed had collapsed a long time ago, crushed by the weight of time, the light, floral tapestries had vanished, along with the copper candlestick he had used to read at night until his father had taken notice. The lamp preceded the emergence of a young man who was unable to cover up his disappointment. 

“What the….” A strong word broke off in the silence of the attic, it fell to the floor, shattered by the light, low laughter of a man. 

“Were you expecting something else?” The laughing man stood to his impressive full height and inhaled the dry air deeply. 

“How did you know?” Calm, happy, and then… 

“Four-Eyes.” As always, grumpy, careless, and then…

“All right… Everything has changed so much here.” Thinning but not disappointed. 

Erwin Smith looked around silently, his gaze clinging to one thing and the next. The sink stood here, a white heavy jug on its edge. An antique desk by this wall, the sole chair in the room. The green fabric of the table had lost its color, become matted, rats had nested in the drawer. A bookshelf, then another, and the last one, the middle shelf has become crooked, the spines of the book had broken off… Erwin Smith closed his eyes, imagining himself touching the rough book covers: here were the basics of natural science, a thick, plump book with many of his father’s pencil notes insides, here was Antigone, a horribly boring but forcibly read tome, the Odyssey – read from beginning to end several times, a few old books full of romantic poetry, obscure but mesmerizing, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the Brothers Grimm… Erwin Smith took the last book carefully off the shelf. Lovingly and cautiously, the man dusted off the cover, when he heard the abrupt words. 

“I think you were looking for this.” The cold voice sounded like a blanket being ripped off. Levi looked at him with a frown, jealous of how the Commander was looking past him with a horrible smirk of a desperate lover. 

“Thank you.” 

In the darkness of the dusty attic, the matte piano looked brighter than the sun. Erwin touched the lid, not trusting himself – maybe it was all just a winter-spun hallucination, another stupid joke? They had not come to this long-abandoned house; he was not touching the instrument that he had hated a long time ago. The lid makes a clapping noise. Levi stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, wrung tight – he wasn’t comfortable around dirt, around other people’s memories, like an uninvited quest at a banquet. 

Re sol la

The young man straightened out, as if the shy string had not resounded within the piano but within himself. It was strange, confusing, which was why it was frightening. What happened? Why, how, what happened? Why was he laughing so clearly and freshly? Could anyone like these horrible sounds? 

“Do you like it? Have you ever heard music?” Brilliant and warm, and that made his chest go colder. Erwin Smith slowly ran his fingers over the keys. Remembering. 

Ti do re.

The last note fell, and the Commander laughed. 

“I am losing my dexterity; can you imagine that I was once able to play this, but not too long?” Mumbled, as if lost. 

“Re, sol, la,” he mouthed, running over the keys without touching them. “Ti, do…”

Re. 

His hand was joined by another, smaller one, not entirely void of the exquisite beauty of maturity. 

“Re,” the Commander repeated gratefully and tenderly, taking his hand from below. 

“Do you like it?” Quiet, crossing his fingers. 

“It matters to you.” Still detached, but no, no, Erwin Smith knew that it wasn’t so. 

“Will you try?” And quickly, his eyes with a spark of mischief in them. 

“It’s not an order.” With a rare, light, happy chuckle of a living person. 

“It’s not harder than handling a fork and knife,” the Commander explained, covering Levi’s hands with his own and directing it towards the aged yellow keys. Long and thin, the re sounds out, crying. Erwin Smith felt the Corporal tense, he felt him listen intently to the unusual sounds, taking them in to understand whether it was good or bad. Ackerman didn’t like re. Sol, la, ti, an upward scale. The Commander carefully regarded the young man’s hand, how he touched the keys precisely and clearly, as if he felt it, as if he knew. There was no resistance, the concentrated tension of an animal inspecting something new, unknown before this moment, dissipated, and was replaced by apathetic melancholy. A quick jump from ti to do, and then re again that fell into the darkness of the attic. Without waiting for any reaction, any other harsh word, the Commander continued to lead Levi’s hand: re-do-re-mi-do-re pass in one breath to end in a confident downward scale: ti, la, sol. Erwin Smith pressed his head into his Corporal’s shoulder tiredly and closed his eyes. The man felt the movements of the hand, he heard the careful sounds which gradually flowed into a single, exquisite melody. Strict, precise. When another opening sol sounded, the Commander pressed several keys, and then again, and another time. 

“Did you like it now?” With the same gentle smile which treaded the edge of condescension. The response was silence. Without waiting for a reply, the man embraced Levi with both arms. 

“It doesn’t sound like drunken songs.” A short chuckle. 

 

The snow continued to fall onto the windowsill, gluing itself to the glass which had become strewn with pale frosty ornaments. It was not cold in the attic, however – the fireplace which hadn’t been used for a long time crackled downstairs merrily. Levi turned the screw on the lamp, and the quivering spot of light grew, eating up the clouded darkness of the late evening. 

“Thank you.” Calmly, not loudly. Ackerman buried himself in the coat the Commander had so graciously lent him. The young man was sitting on the closed piano lid, propping his feet on the edge of the hard, creaky chair. The heavy winter boots were lonely, abandoned on the floor. With cool curiosity the Corporal watched how Erwin Smith, having propped his powerful person in that very creaky chair, tenderly and carefully turned page after page. The strange pictures were replaced by sporadically lined letters. Dried flowers emerged from between some of the pages. “This is gentian” – a pale star across the backdrop of yellow pages.

“Is it bitter?” Melancholy, careless. 

“I don’t know.” With a laugh. 

“I’ve seen these.” A cunning smile. The Commander tried to be surprised, as he was supposed to, probably. 

“Levi.” Quietly, tiredly. A warm hand cupped his knee as fully as possible, slid up the relief of the back of his leg, back to the ankle, and then up again. Erwin Smith knew that he would be understood perfectly with no words. The man lowered his head, feeling the welcome cleanliness of the trousers, and the Commander’s hair immediately felt the touch of cool fingers.

“Look.” The Commander put the book on the lid, so that both Levi and himself could see.  
“Lady Malein.” Confidently. 

“What is it?” Weakly, so much that he didn’t bother hiding his curiosity. 

“A fairy-tale.” Tenderly, in a fatherly way. 

“A fairy-tale?” Cautiously, disbelievingly. 

“A fairy-tale, a story, a made-up fantasy, the reflection of a people’s wisdom.” Almost like a teacher. 

“Popular wisdom likes to point fingers at you–,” The disgruntled words were cut off shortly by a tone that was used to give orders. 

“Let me read for you instead.”

 

A long time ago, in the days of old, a king of a faraway land… “What a horrible beginning.”

…had an only daughter, the beautiful Malein. The king loved the princess, his most valued treasure, and tried to keep her away from all evil to the best of his ability. “What a fool, don’t you think? I hope you never come to such extremes.” 

A father’s love knew no boundaries, and when the princess came to ask for his blessing to marry her beloved, a prince from a neighboring land, the king, fearing for his daughter… Erwin Smith made a long pause, turning over the page. …ordered to lock the beautiful Malein together with several servants and seven years’ worth of food in a dark tower with thick stone walls. 

“You’re lying.” Strangled, skeptical. 

“Is there a point? I never understood the idea behind this story when I was a child, though it was one of my father’s favorites. He had read it to me since I was a mere little child, and I could retell it with my eyes clothes; but let us return to the plot, aren’t you interested how everything ends?” 

The seven years passed in seemingly a week. The food supplies became scarce, but nobody came to replenish them. Then princess Malein’s servants started using their knives to break the tower walls. They didn’t manage it in a short time, but they did in the end, and the princess saw daylight. What did she see after seven years in the darkness of the tower? A burnt-out desert all around. Where towns and villages used to hum with life, there were black ashes and tall crosses. Only the rivers flowed, the streams whispered, and the forests hummed the same way as they had before. Malein’s beloved land had died in war. Where was she to go? Her bitter tears flowing freely, the lady Malein went to the land where her loved one lived. She had to overcome much bitterness on her way, much bitterness until she managed to become a servant in her beloved prince’s palace. The prince had spent a long time mourning his princess, he mourned a long time, as he had thought that his beloved had died in her imprisonment. The land needed a new ruler. He was forced to marry again. But his new bride was definitely no beauty. Fearing that the prince would refuse the appointed nuptials, she asked one of her servants, the prettiest one, to replace her at the altar… 

“And than the prince recognized his beloved beauty and they lived happily ever after? Boring.” He scoffed, dissatisfied, and then Commander added with a laugh, “It’s a fairytale. A fairytale has to end happily. But you probably understood that the entire point here is not the wedding?” With a cunning spark in his eyes, looking from below, and in response, a quiet, waning:

“I understand.” 

It was nice when there was nobody around, when he didn’t have to ask for permission, because one glance was enough, as was a light motion, a nod of the head. Erwin Smith laid back easily, tugging Levi with him, Levi gently hops down from the lid, and his knees made a quiet noise as they hit the wooden chair – the chair moaned pitifully, but who cared about the furniture, especially those who never even shied away around people. 

“You know.” The kiss broke, and sparks were in his eyes. “I also know a moral tale.” 

“I am all ears.” The Commander clasped his hands behind Ackerman’s back. 

“Then listen.” The weathered fingers began to stroke the prickly skin of the warm neck. “This happened a long time ago, a very long time. A man of your age, perhaps a bit older, kept coming to this one brothel once in every few days. That insane geezer–,” Erwin Smith laughed quietly, but Levi continued with a light, “That insane geezer bought the same girl brought from some faraway country every day. He stood in the corner of the room and asked her to run away with him, swearing eternal love, without even thinking of coming closer. This continued for half a year, maybe longer. In the end he decided to buy the girl from the brothel, and he sold all of his things to do it – he came to the owner with papers, and it turned out that his lover didn’t know a word of his language, and she had just been taken to a different corner of the world at half the price he had appointed.” 

“It’s rare to hear such a long tale from you.”

“Do you really need me to speak?”

 

The oil in the gas lamp was almost out, and the two of them were still sitting on the old creaky chair. The entire window was covered with intricate patterns, and the snow fell and fell in the darkness of the night, it fell and fell and… The pair spoke for a long time, the pair keps silence for a long time. There was enough to speak of and enough to fill in the silence. Light touched, free and tender touches – sincerer than the words, more honest than words. Long kisses, free and tender kisses – sincerer than confessions, sincerer than anything. Complete trust, trust that was free and unconditional – more valuable, higher than anything else. Blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep. Slowly, gradually, the attic warmed up. Levi placed his forehead against Erwin’s shoulder, his voice faded out until his breathing became even. Thank you to whomever had invented sleep. The Commander started stroking the sleeping man’s back carefully – he had finally relaxed. Seven long years that couldn’t be told apart from seven endless days would go by. Lady Malein would get out of her imprisonment, but what awaited her? What awaited her were bothers, bitterness, hard work. But that wasn’t not bad, it didn’t matter, it would not be bad or matter if it was taken for granted, as he takes everything. 

Levi slept soundly, like people sleep in safety. Erwin tried not to look at him, instead trying to giving himself over to the feeling of breath on his shoulder, the heaving chest next to him. Time stopped, and only the snow, unbidden, slow, fell and fell, fell and fell, fell and….

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The composition that they were playing is Op. 39 #16 Old French Song by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky
> 
> 2\. The flower mentioned, Gentian, known in Russian as ‘Gorechavka’ which came from adjective ‘Gor’kiy’ or noun ‘Gorech’”, and mean ‘Bitter’ and ‘Bitterness’ respectively. That’s why Levi’s question is quite logical, so far as Gentian is indeed bitter. ( It also has a side-meaning, comparing to Russian ‘Gore’ (grief or sorrow) )
> 
> 3\. Refrain from first three paragraphs (blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep) is part of a quote from Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes. The full context of an quote can ruin all the thick fluff atmosphere, I’ve warned you.
> 
> Special thanks for translation to - http://haganenoheichou.tumblr.com/


End file.
